At some point in the past week or so I have hit a tipping point in my pregnancy. All of a sudden, all I can think about is this soon to be here baby. I realize I must be extremely annoying to talk to since anything anyone says to me is immediately related to the impending birth of my baby. I am nesting which apparently for me means filling both of my freezers with meat. I’m not exactly sure how this makes us more ready for an infant but some primative caveman part of my brain is insistent that the thing we need more than anything else is a 3 month supply of dead animal in our freezers.

I kinda wish that I nested like a normal person and… you know… cleaned or something. The “nursery” is full of half-assembled furniture and dog hair, with swatches of paint on the wall because I couldn’t decide which shade of pale yellow I liked best. My baby shower is this saturday, after which I will try to make some sense of the chaos and do an inventory. Make sure we have… you know… Diapers. There is SO much crap to do around the house and at work, just to get ready to out of comission for a few weeks. I know it was a loooooooooong time ago, but I remember, newborn babies are a complete time suck. When you bring the baby home, you spend all of your time taking care of feeding and changing and crying and sleeping. There is no cooking or cleaning or walking the dog or peeing by yourself. I am starting to feel anxious and incredibly unprepared.

Every time I go anywhere or even think about going anywhere I run through the “escape route” in my head if I happen to go into labor while I’m shopping for my freezer full of meat. As someone with major anxiety issues and a need to be in control all the time, the idea of such a huge, life-changing event that I have absolutely no control over is somewhat terrifying. The one thing I learned about childbirth the first time around is that there is no list, no plan, no course of action that will predict how the labor and delivery will start, progress or end up. The only thing you can hope for is a healthy baby at the end of it all and leave the rest to the universe.

And of course at the same time I am ridiculously excited. I am getting all girly and squealy again thinking about seeing my Moose for the first time. I absolutely cannot wait to meet this little person who becomes more and more real with every passing day. I can’t wait to experience childbirth as an adult with some knowledge about my choices and options instead of an ignorant 20 year old who let everyone else run the show. I can’t wait for the Zen Master to hold the Moose for the first time, to see the look on his face, to know that his life is forever tied to mine because we made a whole person together, both figuratively and literally. I can’t wait for Princess Punk to meet her little sister, to hold her and to be true to the amazing big sister I already know she is.

I think that’s why I’m not posting too much lately… I totally have baby on the brain. Everything I talk about, everything I think about, everything I do is revolving around the fact that I am having a baby in just 8 short weeks. Honestly, I’m starting to disgust myself…C’mon Moose, BRING IT ON!

One in six American women has been a victim of rape or attempted rape. (RAINN.org)

Ok… As a warning… This post is something that most people probably don’t want to think about and may make you uncomfortable. It’s been somewhat of a struggle for me to decide whether or not to actually post this. This is something I’ve been dealing with for a long time and even after 16 years is very raw and fresh on my mind. I’ve decided that in the interest of honesty and frankness and in the hopes that somewhere out there my words might be helpful to someone, here it is…
I was raped when I was 16.
I had run away from home for some silly reason. I took what money I had and rented a by the week apartment 2 doors down from a crack house with a bag full of clothes and my ridiculously neurotic dog. I slept on a blanket on the floor. My “boyfriend” at the time, a 28 year old drug dealer stayed with me on occasion when he wasn’t “handling business.” I had been there about a week when my boyfriend and I got into a fight. He had dropped me off at his friends house, took my car and left me there for half the night. In hindsight I think he had actually been trying to pimp me to his friend. We fought all the way back to my place. When we got there we yelled at each other for awhile while my dog cowered in the corner.
I’m not sure at what point he pulled out the knife.
It still hadn’t occurred to me at that point that I was in actual danger. I believe I said at some point that he should just go ahead and kill me.
The next thing I knew he had pushed me up against the wall with the knife at my throat.
I will never forget what he said next.
“Your own mama doesn’t even know you’re here. I could kill you right now and no one would even care.”
He fell asleep after he was done. Like it was nothing. Like he had a hard days work and he had earned his rest. He left the knife next to the blanket like he knew I wouldn’t dare touch it. I actually sat there with the knife in my hand for about an hour, wondering if I could work up the nerve to do something. Eventually I talked myself out of it, not because I was above it or I was the better person but because I had never tried to kill anyone before and I was scared if I didn’t do it right he would wake up and kill me.
When he woke up in the morning, I took him home, dropped him off and went home to my mom. She found out years later what happened.
I wish I could say I smartened up and went to the police or at least never talked to him again but no. I didn’t tell anyone what happened for years. I didn’t talk to him again for awhile but I did date him again briefly a few years later. I honestly can’t say why. He never admitted any wrongdoing or even talked about that night again. It was completely insignificant for him. I think that bothered me more than a lot of the wrong of this whole ordeal. This was a life-changing moment for me. Something that shaped every day that followed. For him? It was just another day.

So yeah. That’s my story. In the past few years it has become easier less painful to tell. When I started dating the Zen Master, old feelings and memories became intrusive and found themselves seeping into my every day and night. At some point, The Zen Master broke through my wall and he got hit by an avalanche of memories and pent up feelings. And this wonderful amazing man absorbed it all and loved me that much more and I finally figured out that I am ok. I am not a victim. I am a survivor. I’m not overit, I don’t know if I’ll ever be completely free from it but it has shaped who I have become and I’m okay with that. I only pray that the other One in Six women out there can find the same kind of resolution.
There should be no victims, only survivors.

Since everything in my life is so completely different than when I was pregnant with Princess Punk, I’ve noticed a lot of things that I didn’t notice about being pregnant before. Or maybe I just forgot…

The importance of things dropped on the floor is proportionate to how huge your belly is. I actually found myself saying, “Really, I don’t need that 5-dollar bill. Maybe someone who can actually bend over will find it and it’ll make their day.”

The first thing you find out when you go ANYWHERE is where the bathroom is. I don’t think I’d ever used the bathroom in the grocery store before…

Remarks about the size of your belly are NOT welcome, either big or small. The last thing I want to hear is “Wow, you’re really getting big!” because that just makes me want to kick you in the teeth. Or cry. Or kick you in the teeth and then cry.

My Moose at 30 weeks along

Technology has come a long way. I had a 4D ultrasound Monday and it completely blew my mind. I remember ultrasounds when I was pregnant with the Princess and it was a little white blob that they had to label with arrows so I had some idea what part of the body I was looking at. Now it’s… Well just look!

ADHD has NOTHING on pregnancy brain. My attention span has dwindled to about 5% of it’s normal, pre-preggo suckiness. It’s extremely difficult to hold a conversation with a normal adult at this point and actually completing a task? Laughable.

Getting up out of bed or off the couch requires assistance and usually takes about 10x as long as it should. Which is generally a problem since you’re usually getting up because of a suddent and urgent need to pee.

The act of growing another human being is a complete miracle. And also completely weird. The feeling of having a baby wiggling around in my belly fills me with joy and an incredible sense of alien activity at the same time. While I understand that it is a completely natural process and is a neccesary part of the circle of life, the actual reality of a person growing inside my body and feeding off of the nutrients in my blood is kinda gross.

Walking across the room makes you winded. Before pregnancy, I was able to walk briskly up 2 flights of stairs without getting out of breath. At this point in my pregnancy, walking down the hall way at work makes me winded and I avoid stairs as much as possible.

Water gives you heartburn. Seriously.

Sneezing is dangerous. Can we say urinary incontinence? EW.

Hunger becomes a constant and desperate feeling. I swear, I do not think I have ever in my life been so hungry all the time. All day long, all I think about is what I’m going to eat next. I wake up in the middle of the night with stomach pain because I’m so hungry. And the Zen Master and Princess Punk have become guarded about their food because they know damn well that the preggo monster will steal it if given half a chance. It’s a good thing for them I move so slowly.

Speaking of which… Slow motion is now normal speed. Everything I do takes longer. I dread walking down the hallway if someone is walking behind me because I end up feeling like the tractor driving on the highway. Except I’m so big now there is no passing me.

What my closet would look like if I cleared out what DOESN'T fit.

Wearing the same outfit 3 times in one week is no longer embarassing. I’ll be damned if I buy more maternity clothes just so I don’t wear the same thing to work on Monday and Wednesday.

Other people can see your baby move. Try having a serious conversation with your boss while he is staring at your belly like you’re Sigouney Weaver with an alien about to pop out and eat him.

Sleeping on the couch is actually MORE comfortable than the bed. Between my back ache, hip pain and constant heartburn, I have pretty much given up on sleeping in my bed with my furnace husband even though the living room is FREEZING.

Arguments over trivial things become common place. I had a fight with The Zen Master over cookies last week. COOKIES.

Absolute strangers feel compelled to give you advice. Honestly, what the hell is it about pregnant women that makes people feel like they have the right to; comment on size, due date, sex of the baby; share their own horror stories about labor and delivery. Got my own, thanks, I don’t need yours too and give “expert” advice on breastfeeding, diapering or parenting in general?

GO AWAY, I DO NOT KNOW YOU NOR DO I CARE ABOUT THE BENEFITS OF CLOTH DIAPERS!

I’ve been feeling a LOT better lately. Less tired, happier and getting excited about meeting the Moose face to face.

That being said…

I am being a TOTAL slacker today. I can’t seem to get in gear at work and my mind keeps wandering to random and sometimes inappropriate places. I’ve been trying, don’t get me wrong, but I think I have a bad case of the Mondays today. I suppose it doesn’t help that I’m leaving work early for a doctor’s appointment and another ultrasound. The Zen Master is off today thanks to it being the slow season between the leaf peepers and the ski bums. Princess Punk was still asleep when I left this morning and Zen Master woke up just long enough to give me a kiss goodbye. It was extremely tempting to just crawl into bed with him and forget about work today.

I keep yawning although I’m not really tired and since I’m pretty much caught up on all my work right now, there isn’t a lot I can do to keep from being bored. I decided to do a blog post but honestly, I have nothing to talk about today. Even my post is bored.

I have a 3-day week this week which again adds to the desire to do absolutely nothing. I find it odd that the anticipation of not having to work makes me not want to work.

Maybe I’ll make a list. Who knows, it might actually motivate me to do something…

The Zen Master and I have been married for a little over a year and I have noticed lately that as we grow as a couple, odd revelations keep coming up. I thought I would share. A lot of them seem like common sense and I honestly have no idea if other couples have these tiny epiphanys but these have all rung true for me.

And this is just the CLEAN stuff…

Be specific. I am constantly getting annoyed with ZM because he takes everything I say at face value. If I need him to pick something up from the store without specifying brand/size/etc he will come back with the fastest or cheapest thing, not neccesarily the right thing. If I ask him to do the laundry, he will do the laundry… but not fold it. Talk to my husband Randy the Laundry Fairy.

Say thank you. In my houshold, there is somewhat of a role reversal since I am the primary wage earner and although the Zen Master works full-time, he’s home a lot more than I am and tends to be less stressed and tired. While he has his lazy days, he will frequently take it upon himself to clean, do chores I haven’t mentioned and generally keep the house in order. I am extremely grateful for this but I very rarely actually tell him so. This results in him feeling like a douche and stopping any work around the house at all which results in me becoming a grumpy B.

Your partner is NOT a mind reader. This seems like a “duh” kinda thing but it seriously has been an issue for me. I get extremely frustrated because I feel like the weight of the world is on my shoulders and the Zen Master is refusing to help me when in fact, the reality is he is happy to help me… If he actually KNEW that I needed help.

“Dad Clean” and “Mom Clean” are two completely different things. Zen Master will “Dad Clean” the house and I will be disgusted because while he neatly bundled all the cords behind the TV and our (multiple) gaming systems, he completely overlooked the baseball-sized foofs of dog hair surrounding the cords.

Despite my oaths that it would never happen to US, things, um… Shall we say “slow down?” in the bedroom department. Life is busy, sh** happens and sometimes both of you would really rather just go to sleep.

Hugs are ALWAYS good, even when you’re mad. Does that one really need an explanation?

Gender equality is not what I thought it was. I honestly am ashamed to say it but my husband does the “guy stuff” around our house. He mows the lawn, takes care of small repairs, shovels the walk and takes out the garbage. I used to do all that crap myself and you know what? I am really glad I don’t have to do it anymore.

It’s kinda weird the things you get comfortable doing in front of your partner. I was never particularly prissy but I never thought I’d be comfortable going pee while someone else brushes their teeth. Who knew? I. Just. Don’t. Care.

Hmm… I think I’ll leave it on that note. Honestly there are so many weird little things you notice with married life but they all become routine so fast I can’t remember most of them. Something new every day though…

I actually bought him a t-shirt with this on it for his birthday last year. He wears it to WORK. I love my husband.

Occasionally I get distracted. Ok. I OFTEN get distracted. If you ever speak to me face to face you may notice that from time to time my eyes will get glassy and unfocused. Please know this is no reflection on you or your scintilating line of conversation, it’s simply my train of thought jumping a track or two. Again.

This is a problem during conversation but often it is much worse when I’m alone with my own thoughts. I will often find myself thinking about something completely off-base and wondering how in the heck I got there. These thoughts are occasionally even disturbing, involving the accidental death or dismemberment of myself or my loved ones. At which point I will spend the next 20 or so minutes trying to figure out how I actually got to the idea that has now made me so uncomfortable I’d like to cry or hide or both.

Here’s an example of my thought train last night while watching a Law and Order episode involving a school shooting.

“Guns are stupid. We really shouldn’t allow people to get guns so easily.”

“They SHOULD blame the gun manufacturer. They should sue them.”

~the next two thoughts were pretty much simultaneous meaning my train of thought didn’t just jump a track, it split into two seperate trains going in two completely different directions, I’ve color coded them so you can follow~

Yes, that IS a Hello Kitty AK-47

“They should still allow people to buy hunting weapons though. Princess Punk wants to learn how to hunt.”

“I should become a victim in a school shooting so I can sue the gun manufacturuer. That way I can make a social statement AND get out of this financial blck hole. WIN. Oh… right, that would mean I’d have to get shot.”

“I’m not sure how I feel about a 12-year-old hunting. I mean, I couldn’t take her.”

“I don’t think the Zen Master would sue the gun company if I died.”

“He’d be so sad if I died” ~this thought makes me tear up a bit~

“She’d have to take a class and stuff and she would have to commit to the idea of actually killing another creature.”

“We really need to get our finances together in case one of us dies. I have no idea where all of our accounts are.”

“We have really got to write out wills and stuff. And deal with the whole Princess Punk custody issue.”

“Oh my god, what if she couldn’t go through with it and she just half-assed shot a deer and then cried because she hurt it? Then the deer AND Princess Punk would be in pain!” ~images of Princess Punk dressed in camoflauge weeping over a wounded and writhing Bambi~

Honestly, I have no idea where it went next. I actually don’t think it went anywhere because at that point I think I was so completely disgusted with my own thoughts that I decided to pay attention to Law and Order again.

Yes, I am crazy, thank you for noticing! Wanna ride the thought train with me?

Next week is Thanksgiving. I honestly did not know that until I got an email this morning reminding the office that we need to “buckle down” since next week is only a 3-day work week. This is actually something I should have already figured out since the annual office Thanksgiving luncheon was today and I MADE THE DAMN TURKEY. (It was awesome in case you were wondering… I am a damned good cook)

What happened to the last 6 weeks? Was I seriously that out of it that I totally glazed over the time between Princess Punk’s birthday and Thanksgiving? Which means Christmas is right around the corner and OHMYGOD I’M HAVING A BABY IN 10 WEEKS!

There’s so much to do and I’m feeling much better but I’m still struggling with The Tired and The Zen Master is feeling the pressure and he’s grumpy and he’s a bit fed up with my pregnant spoiled whining and Princess Punk is being less than helpful with the whole keeping-her-crap-out-of-the-rest-of-the-house thing. Oh, and we’re pretty broke right now and both cars need repairs AND new snow tires and the nursery is full of a jumble of hand-me down baby stuff but missing a few key elements still.

And I have not even started to think about what to do for Christmas. We usually do Christmas at my house, but that is SO not happening this year. Not to mention that even if I am able to scrape up some money, I have no idea what to get as gifts. I’m not great at the whole gift giving thing and the idea of venturing out to the stores this time of year makes me freak out a little bit.

I should make a list. Except making a list usually makes me feel better and I’m afraid at this point it’ll just be terrifying.